Chapter 3: The First Rule I Break
Morning came too early.
The air in the servant quarters was damp and cold, but Evelyn didn't shiver. She hadn't shivered in years.
The door creaked open.
A young man stepped in—tall, wiry, dressed in black and gray, with clever eyes and a fake smile.
"I'm Callan," he said, bowing slightly. "Assigned to you by His Grace."
"Assigned," Evelyn repeated flatly.
"To watch over you," he added, his voice too smooth. "And assist, of course. Dress you. Feed you. Report your behavior."
He smiled as if that last part wasn't the only part that mattered.
Evelyn looked him over once. Then turned away.
"I don't need a babysitter," she said, brushing dust from the only chair in the room.
Callan chuckled. "Of course you don't. But His Grace believes otherwise. He gave me a list of things you must follow."
He pulled out a parchment. Rolled it open dramatically.
"Rule One: You are not to leave your wing without permission.
Rule Two: You are not to speak unless spoken to.
Rule Three: You are not to touch His Grace's possessions.
Rule Four: You are not to be seen during dinner, events, or public hours.
And Rule Five…"
He looked up, eyes gleaming.
"…never look the Duke in the eye."
Evelyn leaned back, arms crossed. "He already broke that one."
Callan's grin faded just a little. "I suggest you don't break any others. His punishments aren't... gentle."
"I've had worse," she muttered.
He stepped closer. Too close.
"Are you always this fearless?" he asked, studying her.
"No," Evelyn said.
And then smiled.
"I just learned that fear wastes time."
Callan's eyes lingered. Not with desire—with calculation. Like he was trying to figure out how much she knew. Or how far she'd go.
He set down a tray of food on the small table. Bread. Water. An apple already turning soft.
"I'll return at sunset," he said. "Try not to do anything... disobedient."
The door clicked shut.
Evelyn waited five heartbeats. Then crossed the room, picked up the tray—and dumped the apple in a corner.
Then she bent, reached beneath the mat, and slipped the jagged shard of wood she'd broken from the chair leg back under it.
Let them keep their rules. I have mine.
---
By evening, she'd explored every inch of her cell-room. Noticed where Callan left fingerprints. Noticed that her blanket had been refolded wrong. That her bag had been moved slightly. That someone—he—was snooping.
So when Callan returned, she was waiting.
Sitting on the window ledge, legs crossed, looking bored.
"Good evening," he said. "Did you enjoy your first day as a duchess?"
She tilted her head. "Did you enjoy going through my things?"
Callan blinked.
Then smiled like a cat.
"You're paranoid."
"And you're sloppy."
She stood. Walked toward him slowly.
"You know what's funny?" she asked.
He didn't answer.
Evelyn slid the sharp wood shard from her sleeve and held it out in front of her, casually.
"You all treat me like a prisoner. Like I'm weak. But you forget something important."
Callan's eyes narrowed. "And what's that?"
Evelyn's smile sharpened. Cold.
"I was raised by monsters."
And I learned from every one of them.
Before he could move, she slashed the blade across his cheek—just enough to draw blood.
He staggered back, hand flying to his face.
"You—!"
"Tell the Duke," Evelyn said quietly. "Tell him I broke his rule."
Callan stared.
Bleeding. Staring. And finally… afraid.
---
[End of Chapter Three]